


one day you'll know

by artenon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 19:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: It's a quiet night after Karasuno loses to Nekoma at nationals.As crazy as it is, he wants to care. He wants to feel the rawness of the hurt. He doesn’t want to douse it with excuses. He wants to acknowledge that it hurts, and that it hurts so much because he cares, well and truly.





	one day you'll know

**Author's Note:**

> today is the last day of sportsfest bonus round 1 and while i still have a handful of boomarked prompts, i HAD to finish this one because. this prompt. thank god for this prompt -
> 
> Prompt:  
> TIME: after karasuno loses to nekoma  
> PLACE: nationals
> 
> i want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who left a kind comment on the first kurotsuki fill i posted last week. everyone who said "welcome back" and every username i recognized made me really, really happy. i never expected such a reaction; i never expected anyone to recognize my username, to still care about seeing kurotsuki fics from me three years since i last posted one. i hope i can write and post more kurotsuki for you to read and enjoy, and in the meantime, i hope you enjoy this one! again, thank you so much!!!

Kei sits beside the front door of the inn and leans back against the wall, eyes closed. It’s cold even with his jacket zipped up, and while he’s not usually a fan of the cold, the chill night air feels like a blessing after the intensity of today’s match.

Even without any single stand-out players, Nekoma might just be the most annoying team to play against. Long rallies characterized all three sets they played, and Kei doesn’t think he’s ever jumped so much. There are still echoes of the burning in his thighs and lungs from the strain he put them through today.

But even with how worn he is, physically and mentally, his brain still sees fit to keep him awake.

“I was hoping I’d find you out here.”

Kei looks up as Kuroo approaches, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and smiling a little sheepishly.

“Kuroo-san.” He scrambles to stand despite his legs feeling like lead, but Kuroo holds out a hand to stop him. Kei hesitates, but stays seated as Kuroo sits beside him. “Why did you come here?”

“To see you, of course.” Kuroo looks at him closely. “No way,” he says, “you cried?”

Kei clicks his tongue and turns away, trying to will away the betraying redness in his eyes. “Only a little. It was hard not to, with everyone else bawling around me.”

Nekoma knows how to play the long game, that’s for sure. When rallies go on for as long as they do, it’s all the more devastating when your team loses the point. No matter how hard they tried to maintain morale, it wore on all of them eventually.

 _Keep the ball in play, we can’t let it end here, it’s not over, it hasn’t touched the ground yet, don’t stop moving, I’m so tired, can’t think anymore, please just drop already_ —

Finally, it did drop for the last time, but on the wrong side of the net.

The entire arena was stunned into silence for an endless moment, and then the stands roared back to life.

The surrounding shouts felt so far away. Kei’s entire body was hot. His lungs and brain clawed for oxygen. He wanted to drop to the ground, but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to get up again. Around him, it started to sink in for his teammates that it was over. They wouldn’t get to play any more games tomorrow.

Still, Kei thinks, it’s not the worst team to lose to, by far. They finally got it, after all, the infamous Battle of the Trash Heap, and even though they would have liked to go all the way to the end of nationals, Kei’s pretty sure the Karasuno volleyball club will be going back to Miyagi without any lasting regrets.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt right now, though.

The third years are out on the balcony. Tanaka and Nishinoya have already knocked out, too exhausted from the game and too cried out from the aftermath to further dwell on their loss. The other second years talk quietly among themselves. Yamaguchi is reading manga to unwind, though Kei’s not sure how much he’s reading and how much he’s just staring at the pages. Kageyama and Hinata sit side-by-side, unnaturally silent.

There’s a heaviness in there that Kei can’t handle. It’s why he retreated to the lighter air outdoors, where he could be alone.

Alone to process his thoughts and emotions and regrets and _what if_ ’s and _should have_ ’s. Alone to bear the hurt that a part of him is still ashamed to feel.

He’s given the games in this tournament his all, but he can’t change so quickly, not completely. He’s spent too many years repeating the _it’s just a club_ mantra that the old defenses still try to rise up now that they’ve lost, an attempt to ameliorate the pain. It’s just a club, they were bound to lose eventually, winning it all was a long shot and it’s amazing they got this far at all, and in the end—in the end, it’s just a club. There’s no reason to care so much. There’s no reason to hurt so much.

But as crazy as it is, he wants to care. He wants to feel the rawness of the hurt. He doesn’t want to douse it with excuses. He wants to acknowledge that it hurts, and that it hurts so much because he cares, well and truly.

Kei brings a hand up to cover his mouth because he wants to smile a little even through the ache in his chest and really, what’s wrong with him?

“Aaagh.” Kuroo stares at the sky, then turns to him. “This was probably a bad idea. ‘Cause I wanted to see you, but I don’t know what to say. Like, _I’m sorry_ would be kind of stupid considering you lost against my team, but…”

“What, Provocation Expert Kuroo-san has nothing to say?” Kei drops his hand to give Kuroo his sunny false smile. “Aren’t you going to rile me up like usual?”

“Oh, shut it, you know only Bokuto actually calls me that,” Kuroo says. “And I usually only do it to annoy the others into playing better.”

“Even your opponents? You must really be a masochist.”

“Well,” Kuroo says with an exaggerated wink, “only when I like them.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Kei turns away, hoping the darkness will obscure any pinkness that may rise to his cheeks. He draws his knees to his chest and pillows his head in his arms.

“You played really well today,” Kuroo says, and his voice has switched to something too quiet, too sincere. “Really, really well.”

Kei waits for something to lighten it, some quip that it’s all thanks to his teachings and that he still has a long way to go, but it doesn’t come. Kuroo just really, genuinely believes in Kei’s abilities and is really, genuinely proud of him.

“Yeah,” Kei says. “We all did.”

Honestly, though, Kuroo doesn’t give himself nearly enough credit.

“It’s your fault, you know,” Kei says.

“Pardon?”

“It’s your fault I tried so hard. It’s your fault it hurts so much right now.” He sits straighter, clenches his hand in his shirt over his heart. His eyes sting with fresh tears.

He doesn’t want to go home yet.

Kuroo’s hand is half-raised towards him, and he looks lost. “I…”

“Thank you,” Kei says. He smiles and rubs the corner of his eye with the heel of his palm.

Tears burst from Kuroo’s eyes.

Kei’s heart jumps to his throat. “Wa—what. Why are you crying?”

“You started it.” Kuroo sniffles loudly. “It’s not my fault I’m an empathetic crier. And you _smiled_ —and you’re _crying_ —”

“I’m not even—I’m barely even crying, Kuroo-san. Look, I’ve stopped already.”

“It’s too laaaate.” Kuroo drapes himself dramatically over Kei.

Kei has no idea what to do. He awkwardly rubs his hand up and down Kuroo’s back as he sniffles against him. The material of his jacket is cold but Kuroo himself is very, very warm, and he huffs a hot breath against Kei’s neck, which for some insensible reason makes Kei shiver.

It probably takes less than a minute for Kuroo to get himself together and draw back, but it feels much longer. Like the long rallies in volleyball. What’s so long about them, really, when they last scant seconds—but in the moment Kei is hyperaware of every millisecond, every too-fast heartbeat as he dives and jumps and blocks.

In the moments that Kuroo is leaning into him, Kei feels each of Kuroo’s breaths against his skin and each shift of his back and shoulders and the slight, almost imperceptible press of his fingers into Kei’s back before he pulls away.

Kuroo scrubs his face with his sleeve. “What are you even thanking me for, anyway,” he says. “It sounds like I just caused you a lot of trouble.”

“You know why,” Kei says, because he must know. Kuroo is incredibly perceptive, oftentimes annoyingly so, and he can read Kei better than he’d like anyone to be able to read him. But he has to admit that sometimes it’s nice, in vulnerable moments like this, when he doesn’t have to admit things that he’s thought but can’t quite bring himself to vocalize, because Kuroo already knows.

Thank you for helping me care again.

“Please don’t make me say it,” he says.

It feels even colder now after having held Kuroo. His hands are freezing. Kei cups them in front of his face, breathes into them and rubs his palms together.

Kuroo’s fingers close around Kei’s hands. They’re as cold as Kei’s own hands, but Kei feels a warmth spread through his body despite this.

“Go out with me?” Kuroo says. “Because you know, I really like you, Tsukki. I mean, really, really, really like you. I was planning to ask you tonight no matter who won, because I don’t know the next time I’ll get to see you in person. But then I didn’t know how to bring it up, because is it awkward? We were opponents a few hours ago, and I’m not gonna lie, your team is probably the most annoying to play against, for real—”

“Kuroo-san, please stop,” Kei says, and Kuroo falls silent, eyes wide, hands trembling against Kei’s. “You’re one to talk about annoying teams. You guys are so annoyingly good at connecting, you almost never let me get a satisfying kill block. And—”

He takes a stuttering breath, then another one, properly. He has to be brave this time. He has to say it. He can tell that when it comes to this, for some reason, Kuroo doesn’t presume. Maybe even the opposite of it. For some reason, Kuroo doesn’t think he deserves things like this.

Kuroo’s not the only one who’s good at reading people. While Kuroo’s been watching him—he’s not as subtle as he thinks—Kei’s been watching back.

Kuroo is a tactile person and he’s not shy about it, but Kei can tell, in the stiffness of his shoulders when he slings his arm around Bokuto or slouches against Kozume, that he’s holding back. He says _I love you_ jokingly to his friends a few times too many for it to be just a joke. He’s always smiling and laughing around others but sometimes he turns around and the smile drops away like nothing. Kuroo loves deeply and is incredibly giving but he doesn’t take, almost seems afraid to take.

Kuroo _really_ doesn’t give himself enough credit.

“Yes,” Kei says, calm and sure. “I will go out with you.”

“You—really? That’s it?” Kuroo squeezes Kei’s hands. “I mean, I’m thrilled, but—I wrote essays for this moment. You don’t need time to think about it? Really?”

Kei’s lips twitch in amusement. “Stop shooting yourself in the foot. I wouldn’t have said yes if I hadn’t already thought about it.”

“You’ve thought about it?” If Kuroo squeezes Kei’s hands any harder, it’s going to start to hurt.

“I _thought_ you were supposed to be smart.” Kei clears his throat. “I guessed you might like me. I mean, I didn’t know for sure, but when I guessed it, I thought about it, and… I liked it.”

He liked it a lot. He likes Kuroo a lot. Another thing he’s not quite brave enough to say, but hopefully Kuroo gets it now.

From the smile threatening to overtake Kuroo’s face, Kei thinks he does.

Kuroo lifts Kei’s hands up, turns them palm-up, and presses soft kisses to his fingertips.

Kei’s stomach flips. He swallows and watches as Kuroo kisses down to his palm, lingers there with his lips, then presses his hand to his cheek.

Kuroo’s cheek is cold. Kei’s own face feels very warm, though it might be equally cold to the touch.

“Will you let me take you out soon?” Kuroo asks.

“Yes.”

“Have you always been this nice?”

“You have,” Kei says. “I’m a work in progress.”

“You’re amazing,” Kuroo says, so earnestly that it startles a smile out of Kei, and Kuroo blurts, “You have the most beautiful smile in the world.”

Kei quickly transforms his smile into a scowl.

“Noooo,” Kuroo says. “I take it back—I mean, I don’t, but—”

“I said yes to going out, and I said yes to a date. Are you going to kiss me now?” Kei asks, innocently, and Kuroo stutters to a stop.

“You—I—yes. Yes, I will.”

Kuroo still has one of Kei’s hands against his cheek, so Kei brings his free hand up to his other cheek. It’s dark but the sky is clear and the moonlight washes over Kuroo unfiltered. Kei can see how wide his eyes are as he stares at him, the pink tinge in his cheeks and Kei bites his lip.

Kuroo inhales sharply. He rests his other hand on the back of Kei’s neck and leans in, pressing their lips together. Kei’s stomach explodes into butterflies and his heart jackhammers in his chest. He feels warm down to his core. Kuroo’s lips slot easily between Kei’s own, and they part by millimeters before closing the distance again and again.

Kuroo’s slides his tongue along Kei’s lower lip. Kei makes a soft noise of surprise, mouth falling open, and then he pushes back. They take turns exploring each other’s mouths, and Kuroo keeps pressing closer and closer, radiating heat and want, and—this is ridiculous. They’re making out right outside the inn where anyone could see. A telltale hardness presses against Kei’s thigh, and Kei’s no better off himself. They’re not going to go further than making out tonight, definitely not, but just this feels so good and they should really stop soon, but maybe just for a little longer, they can—

Kei yanks away when he hears the indistinct but undeniable sound of Kageyama and Hinata arguing, and the pounding of feet, far too close. He stands, grabs Kuroo by the wrist and yanks him along with him around the side of the building, into the bushes and behind a tree.

Kageyama and Hinata burst out of the inn and tear down the street, screaming nonsense at each other as they do.

“Wait, you two! You’re going to get lost!” Ennoshita yells after them as he hops out of the inn still pulling one shoe onto his foot. “Dammit! Narita, I’m going with them!”

He grabs the bike he’d made Kei use the first night Kageyama and Hinata had gone out to run and peels down the street where they’ve already nearly disappeared from sight.

“Well,” Kei says, “looks like they’re over it.”

Kuroo slings an arm over Kei and leans into his chest, laughing helplessly. “Are those two serious? Running like that after today’s game? I mean, we just ran, what, ten feet and my legs are killing me.”

Now that he mentions it, Kei’s legs are burning, too, viciously punishing him for getting up and moving so suddenly when they’ve already been through so much today. He’s almost thankful that he won’t have to play another game tomorrow.

“Yeah,” he says with a small laugh. “Mine, too.”

Kuroo falls silent. Kei almost thinks something is wrong, but Kuroo’s shoulders aren’t tense at all against him. He’s lax and loose and comfortable when he says, “I really, really like you.”

“So you said.” Kei feels braver, somehow, so he closes his eyes and says, “I really like you, too.”

There’s something else he needs to thank Kuroo for, more than helping him care about volleyball again, but he’s not brave enough for this one yet, not by far. But he’ll get to it. He has a feeling that they’ll have plenty of time to slowly, one by one, uncover the things he knows long before he ever says.

Sometime in the future, he’ll tell him: Thank you for helping me smile again.


End file.
